


In Boldness

by Val_Creative



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Era, F/F, Femslash, Femslash Friday, First Kiss, First Meetings, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 21:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13280190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: She closes the distance, nudging her forefinger and thumb under Meera’s chin to raise her face. It’s a scent like elder and perfumed, woody nettle, drifting off her. Wylla’s smile dimples into a cheerful grin. “You’re a crannogman, aren’t you?” she asks.





	In Boldness

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea aaaaaaages ago about Meera and Wylla getting to be friends/having crushes on each other. They don't live that far away from each other! If anyone else likes the idea, tell me in the comments! Hope you enjoyed this! :)

 

*

Mud men. Bog devils.

 _Cravens_.

She's heard every offending term referring to her people. It's difficult to hold back the urge to put her spear through the boy snort-laughing at the docks of White Harbor's trade port.

He finds himself kicked forward into the choppy, jewel-dark waters, yelping and shivering. Another girl sneers down at him, turning around. A long, braided knot of honey-yellow hair lays across her shoulder, its ends tinted green as swamp waters Meera fondly remembers back home.

"Try not to be cross. He's a lackwit with no manners," Wylla announces, offering a tiny, sweet smile. She chuckles when Meera's hand releases tension on her three-pronged frog spear.

Meera smiles in return, tilting her head.

"No promises," she murmurs.

A hot, gripping flush soars through her when the other girl closes the distance, nudging her forefinger and thumb under Meera's chin to raise her face. It's a scent like elder and perfumed, woody nettle, drifting off her.

Wylla's smile dimples into a cheerful grin. "You're a crannogman, aren't you?" she asks, seemingly hopeful. "I've heard your people can see the future. Is it true?"

"That's a greenseer," Meera explains, patiently leaning out of Wylla's grasp.

" _Greenseer_?"

The sudden, bemusement look deepens the pucker of Wylla's pale pink lips. Meera avoids staring, flushing more visibly.

"They can see the future. Sometimes they can see the past."

A giggle.

"Are _they_ green?" Wylla asks curiously, squinting her eyes. They're neither blue nor grey, but a stormy-dark hue — like the churning, foaming waters lapping at the docks.

Meera shakes her head.

"No, of course not," she says, echoing friendliness in her laughing tone. Meera's hand boldly touches the loosened, slim knot of Wylla's hair, examining it gently. "You have more _green_ to you than the likes of me…"

That earns her a coy look through Wylla's eyelashes — and a light, soft peck against the rightsided corner of Meera's mouth. She swallows a gasp, blinking as if waking from a dream.

_Boldness answers boldness, doesn't it?…_

And Meera's no craven.

*

 


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